


anything you'd like

by uptillthree



Series: and living well [4]
Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Gen, Interlude, Reunion, don't have to read any of the works in this series to understand, the conversation in the kitchens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-15
Updated: 2017-05-15
Packaged: 2018-11-01 02:03:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10912068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uptillthree/pseuds/uptillthree
Summary: “Freedom,” Erasmus says. “What would I do with freedom?”Be with me,Kallias does not say.(Prince Torveld comes to Delpha and convenes with the Kings; in the palace kitchens, an entirely different reunion occurs.)





	anything you'd like

**Author's Note:**

> I keep telling myself I'm done writing capri fic, but like... CLEARLY NOT. Kallias and Erasmus' characters are hard to write, so I hope they're not that out of character. But catch me on twitter @uptillthree and yell at me about this trilogy!

When Kallias is freed, he is one of the quickest to adjust to the newness, the novelty. It isn’t that he doesn’t struggle as much as the others did; it is still difficult to unlearn the training, to not just say _yes, sire_ all the time, to not fall to his knees and defer whenever the kings looked at him, to accept payment and the fact that he had a right to certain things. But still, it’s just — easier, for him. He has dreamed before, of a free life. It is partly Erasmus, murmuring that he would like to see the world, who has created that vision.

Still. It is difficult, without Erasmus.

When Kallias does see Erasmus again, it is just after completing his duties as a palace servant. It is different work from a slave, roughening his palms and sending him on many errands.

He gets a salary from it. It is the strangest thing.

The day can almost be called normal. Kallias _does_ know that today marks the arrival of Prince Torveld of Patras, who has come as Ambassador to strengthen ties with Vere and Akielos, and Kallias _has_ been told that the Akielon slaves have been sent from Vere to Patras, and that Prince Torveld has brought some with him, but, but— but Kallias has been trying _so hard_ _not_ to think of it.

Kallias finishes drying the palace plates and cutlery, placing them where they belong, and then he makes to go to the servants’ quarters until he is needed again, and so he turns to leave, and then, instead, just _there,_ is—

“Erasmus!” Kallias intended for it to be a shout, a call, but instead, instead his voice comes out in a gasp.

When Kallias sees Erasmus again, it is as if all the breath has left his body, and sheer purpose has re-entered it in its stead. _Here is a reason. Here is a man I would be free for._ He rushes forward, heart pounding as hard as it ever had, hands reaching to hold those warm palms—

And Erasmus steps away.

(In Akielon love poems, the gods would make love and life into a trial, too.)

Erasmus is staring at him with fear and doubt and sadness, and maybe a little longing, and it— hurt, simply. To know that that is all directed at Kallias, and worse, it really is Kallias’ fault. Kallias pulls his hands away, clasping them tightly against his stomach.

 _I missed you._ “I’m sorry,” is what Kallias really says. _Stop looking at me like that._

“Sorry,” Erasmus repeats. “What for?”

“You know what,” Kallias says, trying to keep the impatience out of his voice. Erasmus is being unfair. “Erasmus, you have— you have to let me _explain.”_

“Is— is there anything to explain?”

“Of course there is!” An apology, a thousand apologies. Kallias isn’t a slave anymore, but in this moment he wants to get on his knees and beg forgiveness. “I never meant to hurt you— it was Kastor, he was a traitor and I could see it and I didn’t know what to— he was going to _do_ something, and I couldn’t— I was trying to save your _life_ —”

It pours out of him, _everything_ — Kastor’s plot, and the kiss which had sealed both their fates, and how Kallias had thought, _this is all I can do, and so I will do it,_ and the blame he had carried on his shoulders day after day after day, and how, when it was all over, King Damianos and King Laurent had given him freedom instead of death.

It is freeing, to say it; beyond words. He’s sure his voice shakes; he doesn’t know how Erasmus even understands him, but Erasmus always has.

He waits for Erasmus’ response, maybe gratitude, maybe hurt— but Erasmus says nothing, standing just out of reach, eyes desperate and mouth pulled into a frown.

Kallias has run out of words and breath. “I’m sorry,” he says again, and Erasmus bridges the rift between them and embraces him.

_“Oh.”_

“I am sorry, too.” Erasmus’ breath tickles his ear. His cuffs and collar feel cold against Kallias’ skin.

“Sorry,” Kallias repeats, smiling a little. “What for?”

Erasmus huffs out a laugh. A moment later, he pulls away.

“You,” Erasmus begins, then falters. “You have no collar.”

“I—” Kallias looks down at himself. He spreads his hands, reaching out. “I’m a free man.”

For a long moment, Erasmus simply gazes at him, trying to figure him out. Then: “What is it… like?”

“It’s like—” But the words are hard to find. “It’s… strange. It feels… It feels powerful.”

A look of surprise; alarm. “Powerful?”

Kallias supposes that must seem strange: Slaves do not have _power._ It is the farthest thing, unthinkable. “Yes,” Kallias says, giddy.

“Oh.” A noncommittal sound, with nothing in it. Kallias can deal with that; he understands it, what it is like to think of freedom, and fear it. He lets Erasmus’ gaze take him in.

“It was foolish,” Erasmus says, tentatively, “to try and trick Kastor.”

“It was _worth it._ And I wasn’t in that much danger. I made sure he thought I was stupid.”

“What?”

“If he ever suspected that I knew anything about his motives,” Kallias explains, “I’d be dead now. I never knew what he was _planning—_ even he never trusted me that much. But I knew he was going to do something to Damianos-Exalted’s slaves. So I always pretended to be sleeping, or not paying attention, or just that I couldn't _understand,_ whenever it came up. He thought I wasn’t important enough to kill, you know.” Kallias smirks. “Just a slave to fuck.”

Erasmus turns scarlet. “Your mouth is foul.”

“It’s the truth,” Kallias laughs. “I won. Against him, I fucking won.” He can speak about it now. There are days when he cannot even stomach the memory of Kastor, but— this is Erasmus. Here, with him, Kastor doesn’t even _matter._

“I— you’re very brave,” Erasmus says, still blushing, only this time it looks less like embarrassment and more like affection. “And you _were_ smart, to hide your true self. You saved my life.”

“I made you think I ruined it, too.”

It is Erasmus’ turn to laugh. The sound is like bells. “But you _didn’t.”_

“I’m glad,” Kallias says desperately, the words leaving him in a rush. “I’m glad you’re alive, I’m glad I saw you again.”

Erasmus gazes at him, head tilted. “You’re…”

“What?”

“You’re different,” Erasmus says after a moment. “I think it is because you are not a slave anymore.”

Kallias inclines his head. “I think freedom has done me well.”

“Freedom,” Erasmus repeats, thoughtfully.

“Yes.”

“I think it truly does,” Erasmus says, a smile touching his lips, slow and kind, and that smile, it transforms his entire face. It makes him look beautiful. “It suits you. You look— you act… freer. Freedom suits you. I think you will go far.”

Kallias smiles, thrilled with this, this old-new Erasmus, who speaks his mind and looks at him so warmly. He wants to ask, _Won’t you go far with me?_ But he knows there is a line. He is a free man, even if he is only a lowly servant, and Erasmus is still a slave. But— but Kallias is so _curious._ “Do you wish to be free?”

Erasmus almost recoils. “This slave does not wish for anything more than to fulfill his master’s desires.”

It is an ingrained response, a lesson; not an answer. Mentally, Kallias swears. He knows what that feels like, to slip back into habit, to hide where it feels safe. There is a line he cannot cross, yet. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.”

But Erasmus raises his head and meets his eyes. “You can ask.”

Kallias hesitates, and hesitates, and hesitates. The quiet stretches between them. He doesn’t want to hurt it, this fragile peace between them. There is a line. But Kallias has always toed it.

“What was it— what did they— were you all right?” Kallias asks. “In Vere?”

Erasmus blinks, startled. “Vere?”

“Vere.”

“I— no. No.” Erasmus’ jaw is clenched, body coiled tight with tension. He doesn’t say anything more.

Absurdly, Kallias can feel tears gathering at the corners of his eyes. He keeps asking all the wrong questions, clearly. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I sent you there.”

“I wasn’t there for long,” Erasmus says quickly, seeing his face. “You were trying to keep me safe. You _did_ keep me safe. I was sent to Patras soon after.”

“Good.” Kallias can’t bring himself to ask Erasmus any more about it.

“I did do it, you know. I saw the world.” Kallias sucks in a breath. “It was King Damianos and King Laurent, Kallias, they helped me. I owe them my life.”

“What? How?” _Now I have twice the debt to repay._

Erasmus explains about the bargain with Prince Torveld, and how it was Damianos-Exalted who had started it, and Laurent His Highness who had ended it.

Kallias isn’t sure what to say; his relief is beyond words. “Is Patras kind to you, then?”

“Yes. Prince Torveld is very kind to me.”

Oh. _Oh._ “Your master?” Kallias has no right to be jealous. Of course not.

Erasmus is smiling again, but Kallias cannot help but think that he is smiling for all the wrong reasons. “Yes. He is very gentle with me. This slave is overjoyed to be in his service.”

“I see.” And then, because Kallias is a petty creature, he says, “Isn’t he here to convene about slavery abolishment with our Kings?”

The smile finally fades a little, eyes sliding away from him. “Yes, my Prince told me that was one of the things he came here for. But there is the peace treaty to resettle, too.”

“Mm. Do you think Patras will be a free country, one day?”

Erasmus looks at him, his gaze strangely sharp. Kallias finds himself pleased by it. “He tells me that might happen, because Akielos has done it, and their cultures are very close. But it isn’t for me to speculate.”

Kallias has never been like that. Nosy, stubborn, sly Kallias can never _not_ speculate about matters that might concern him. “Yes, but— what if it does happen? If Patras gives her slaves freedom?”

“Freedom,” Erasmus says. For Kallias, it is a glorious thing that has already come to fruition. For Erasmus, who is still a slave, it is a strange, frightening, even traitorous thing to consider. “What would I do with freedom?”

 _Be with me,_ Kallias does not say. “Anything you’d like.”

“I’m not sure I’d know what I’d like,” Erasmus says quietly. “Is it very different? Being free?”

“Mm. I thought, at first, that it was not _that_ different, but— it is.”

“How?”

“Well. You get paid, for one thing.” The first time Kallias was given a salary, he nearly brought himself to tears wondering what to do with it. In the end he just decided to keep the money. For the future.

“Paid. What would I do with that?”

“What would you — well. You would save it. Or you would buy things. For yourself.”

“Like what?”

“Like— clothes! And food, more than just what you’d need. Or— oh! Or a new kithara!”

“A kithara.”

“Yes. You’d like that. One that would be yours, perhaps engraved with your name. Not just the palace’s. And a flute, or a lyre, or— whatever you’d like. You could buy books of poetry. Or—” Kallias wracked his mind for more things Erasmus might like. “Or a pretty vase to put flowers in, like the ones in the palace? And it would be yours. Actually— you could have your own garden.”

“Oh,” Erasmus says, sounding sort of dreamy.

Kallias grins. Erasmus is such a _romantic._ “Have I convinced you?”

Abruptly, Erasmus shutters. “You can’t convince me. I’m _not_ free yet.”

“You might be,” Kallias says, voice soft. “Soon. Prince Torveld and King Damianos are— talking about it.”

“I know, but—” Erasmus is frowning. “What do _you_ plan to do? Now that you are free?”

_I was planning to turn the world upside down to find you, and now I already have. I want to free you, but I can’t, I’m still just a servant. One day I want to buy a house, and I would invite you in, and the house would become our home._

Kallias thinks about saying that and realizes he is twice as much of a desperate romantic as Erasmus. He swallows.

“I don’t know, yet,” he lies. “If— if you were free….”

“What?”

“If you were free, I thought— we might figure it out together.”

“Oh,” Erasmus says again. His voice is very small. More like a whisper, or perhaps a sigh.

“Yes,” says Kallias, and found his voice was just as low.

“Well,” Erasmus says slowly. “I might be free. One day.”

 _One day._ That is enough. A dream is enough. Kallias smiles, and pulls him close, and dares to hope.


End file.
